| THE LORELEI SIGNAL |
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| Written by Selena Thomason / Artwork by LeeKuruganti |
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| The Secret Shaman |
Sharri and her brother Paal made their way to the north woods then deep inside the old part of the forest.
“Do you think she’ll help us?” Paal asked as he gaped at the scenery.
“I hope so. I have done all I can. Now we need a more powerful shaman.”
“I didn’t think there was another shaman in Drexel.”
“Technically, there isn’t.” Seeing her brother’s confused face, Sharri tried to explain. “She hasn’t accepted that she
is a shaman. So she’s perpetually sick. And grumpy. It’s said she is very rude.”
“She doesn’t sound like much of a healer.”
“I know. But sometimes the greatest power is found in the strangest places. Maybe after we tell her about little
Bandi, then maybe she will be moved to action.” Sharri placed an urgent hand on her brother’s shoulder. “But I
can’t promise anything. She may not help at all. She may turn us away before we even get there. I don’t know what
will happen.”
“I understand.” They walked in silence until Paal could no longer contain his awe. “I’ve never seen such big trees!”
“They’re older than you are. Older than father, even.”
“I couldn’t get my arms around them if I tried.”
The canopy above grew so thick that the light dimmed to a pale, green-tinged gold.
“Is it much further?”
Sharri let out a short laugh. “It is always further, much further.”
They walked for what seemed like hours, until the golden light began to dim into a deep blue.
“I’m hungry,” Paal complained.
“I’m sorry. But you will have to bear it. We can’t stop now.”
“When are we going to get there?”
Sharri exhaled a long breath. “Whenever she deems it the right time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. Just keep walking.”
A crow squawked. Sharri turned her head toward the sound. She found the bird perched on a branch above them.
“Hello, Master Crow. Would you help us please? We are seeking the Secret Shaman.”
The crow squawked again and stomped its claws on the branch.
“I know that she wishes to be left alone. But it is a matter of great urgency.” Sharri paused, trying to find a way to
entice the shaman to see them. But she knew it had to be a truthful way, that trickery would result in their deaths.
“It concerns a child. My brother’s child. He is sick, so sick his soul has become lost. Please, could you show us the
way to the shaman’s cottage?”
The crow cocked its head to one side as if listening for a voice on the wind. Then it looked back at Sharri and her
brother and took off through the trees, traveling slowly enough they could follow its trajectory.
“We have to follow the bird. Hurry.”
As they ran, the trees began to thin and the twilight sky appeared in patches above them. Sharri could see the moon
rising through the highest branches. A few steps more and a cottage came into view. It was small and white, with
blue trim around the windows, and ivy creeping up one side.
“That’s it,” Sharri exclaimed as she and Paal ran to the door.
The crow landed on the lamppost.
“Thank you, Master Crow.”
The bird flew away, back toward the thick part of the forest.
Sharri knocked carefully at the entrance.
A frazzled-looking woman opened the door just enough to examine the intruders on her doorstep. “What do you
want?” she asked before continuing with a reply of her own. “I’m not buying whatever you’re selling. I don’t need
anything from you.” She coughed into her fist, then waved a hand at them as if shooing away a fly. “Go back where
you came from.” A tissue fell from her pocket as she moved to close the door.
Sharri stepped in closer. “We cannot. We need your help.”
“I am not for hire.” She began again to shut them out.
“We cannot pay you.”
The woman peered at them through the barely ajar door. “Then why should I help you?”
“Because a child’s life is at stake.”
The woman sniffled. “There is always a child’s life at stake.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t care,” she claimed. But
despite her protest, she made no further attempt to close the door. Concern etched lines above her eyes. She stood
perfectly still for a moment, then asked, “Is the child yours?”
“My nephew. My brother’s son. His name is Bandi. He is only four and has fallen ill. The sickness has so consumed
him his soul has become lost. I have been unable to locate him and bring him back.”
The woman shook her head. “Very bad indeed.” A chunk of frizzy hair fell forward into her face; she shoved it
away. “You must have your village shaman search for him.”
“I am the shaman. I have failed. That is why I seek your help.”
The strange woman’s nose crinkled as if assaulted by a rancid smell. “What makes you think I can do it?”
“Though I am not shaman enough to find Bandi, I am more than skilled enough to use a buscarill to look for power
in my vicinity. Although your location was always hazy, stories I’ve heard pointed to the north woods.”
“Gossip and finder-trinkets—both are unreliable.”
“Yet, here you are.”
“Only because I was curious to see what kept you searching for so long.”
Sharri reached toward the strange woman, then thought better of it and placed her hand on the doorframe instead.
“Please. I know you are more powerful than I am. I know you can find him.”
The woman scowled in response. “You ‘know’ a lot for someone so young. Maybe that is your problem. True
wisdom is recognizing that you don’t know.” Sniffling, the woman backed away from the door.
Sharri’s heart sank and she turned to leave. But then the door opened further.
“Come in, we’ll see what we can do.”
Sharri and Paal entered the cottage to find a messy, but strangely cozy, room. A brightly colored couch dominated
one side, while books covered every available surface. The woman cleared a space on the couch and invited her
guests to sit down.
“Have you tried a soul-glass?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you bring something of the child’s?”
Sharri turned to her brother who produced a small stuffed animal from his pocket. He handed it to the shaman.
“This is his favorite toy.”
“A kitten,” she observed. “That bodes well for the child.” She sat in a blanket-strewn chair. “Now, we must be still
and listen.” She closed her eyes, then a moment later, opened them and glared at Paal. “Very still.” She closed her
eyes again. “And very quiet.”
She began humming. Then switched to purring softly. A clock on the wall tick-tocked the seconds away as they
waited.
The woman whispered, “I think I see him. Does he have blonde hair and like to play in the tall grass?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“Bandi, Bandi,” she began to call to him. “Come home, come home. Your father misses you. Your aunt too. And...”
She opened her eyes to peer at Sharri and Paal briefly. “I suspect a great many more people love you and miss you
as well. Come home, come home, little Bandi, there is nothing to fear.” She opened her eyes and looked at her
desperate guests. “He is returning. But you will have to help him find his way.”
“How do we do that?” Sharri asked.
The woman handed Bandi’s kitten back to his father. “With this, and something else I will give you.” She walked to
a tower of shelves set into the far wall. Standing there, she muttered to herself and searched through the various
bottles and boxes until she found what she was looking for. She returned to Sharri with a small leather pouch in her
hand.
“Take this home with you. Burn this herb in a glass bowl near his bedside. It has to be a glass bowl. Be sure.”
“I will.”
“The smell will be very strong, but it has to be to reach him where he is. The scent will give him something to follow
home. His soul should return by the next moonrise.”
Sharri nodded. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” She rose to leave.
Paal remained seated. “Is that it?”
The woman raised an eyebrow at him. Sharri tried to hush her brother with a look.
“That’s too easy. How can we believe her? She didn’t even do anything.”
“How do you know?” the woman said as she got up and moved to open the door.
Sharri gestured for Paal to follow her. “Trust me, Paal. She did it. She found Bandi and gave us a way to bring him
home. Just because you didn’t see anything doesn’t mean nothing happened. Come on, we have to go. We’ve
intruded long enough.”
“That you have.”
Sharri stopped at the door to thank the woman. “Thank you, Secret Shaman.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I’m not a shaman.”
“Nonetheless, I knew you could do it. I knew you could help us.”
“Again, you ‘know’ too much, young shaman. It will be your downfall.”
“I’ll work on it, I promise. But you have some work to do as well.”
The woman placed a hand on her hip. “Really?”
“You wouldn’t be sick all the time if you would accept your calling instead of run from it.”
The woman’s face hardened into a frown. “Get out.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Of course, but...”
The woman nodded her guests out the door. “I don’t want to see you here again. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course. Thank you.”
***
Alexa slammed the door. The nerve of those two!
She threw herself onto the couch, causing a couple books to clatter to the floor. Why did I even bother? Just
because they searched for hours...that’s no reason.
The crow alighted in an open window and cawed from the sill.
“I should never have listened to you and let those seekers find the house.”
The bird tilted its head to one side and cawed again.
“Yes, I found the boy. With the breva weed I gave them they should be able to draw him home.” She pulled a book
from under her legs and threw it across the room. “Assuming that rookie shaman can follow directions.” She sat up
suddenly and turned to the bird. “Where is the kefa flower you were supposed to bring me?”
The bird disappeared from the window for a moment, then returned with several sprigs of yellow flower in its beak.
“Thank you, Glower. At least one of us can always get the job done.”
***
Paal and Sharri returned home as quickly as they could in the darkening woods. Sharri was glad the moon was
nearly full and the sky cloudless.
“We should have brought a lantern,” Paal said.
“I know. I didn’t think of it.”
A cold breeze blew up Sharri’s back and she stopped suddenly to peer into the woods behind her.
“Did you feel that?”
“What?”
“A chill.”
“I didn’t feel anything.”
“Alright, let’s keep going.”
As they hurried home, Sharri couldn’t shake the feeling something was following them. Several times she stopped
and scanned the woods behind them, looking for whatever it was that made the hair on the back of her neck stand
on end.
Sharri was relieved when the village came into view and the trees gave way to fields. Most people in town had their
lamps on, so Sharri and Paal broke into a run.
They tumbled through the door of Sharri’s house minutes later and raced to the guest room where Bandi lay. They
found him still sick and without soul-light in his eyes. Sharri claimed her glass bowl from its cabinet and poured in the
herbs the shaman had given her.
“Do you really think this will work?” her brother asked.
“Of course it will. As long as we do it right. Put Bandi’s toy on the nightstand.”
Paal did as he was asked, then sat at the foot of the bed. “How will we know if it works?”
“We’ll know. He’ll have soul-light back in his eyes again. He’ll wake up.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“You must believe, Paal. These things only work if you believe.” Sharri struck a match and tossed it into the herbs,
then set the bowl on the nightstand.
Grey smoke swirled up from the burning leaves and hovered over the little boy’s sleeping form.
“She wasn’t kidding about the smell,” Paal noted.
Sharri crinkled her nose and stepped back a little. “Well, she did say it had to be strong in order to reach Bandi.”
“So, what do we do now?”
Sharri scratched at the back of her neck and tried to shake off the foreboding that had settled around her shoulders
like a heavy, wool blanket. “Now, we wait.”
***
A knock sounded at Alexa’s door, startling her out of a midday snooze. She opened her eyes and glared at the
door. Who could it be? Glower didn’t alert me to any strangers in the forest.
Another knock rattled the door.
“Open up, Lexa. I know you’re in there.”
Alexa groaned. It was her Aunt Mildred. How does that woman always sneak up on me? “Go away!”
“You know I won’t. Come and open this door, or I swear I will climb in through the window.”
“Fine.” Alexa got up from the couch and opened the door.
The uninvited visitor was an older woman with a mound of gray hair piled atop her head. She came into the room
and made herself at home in the best armchair.
“What do you want, Auntie?”
“Same as always. I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get back to the business of living.”
“I do not feel sorry for myself. I feel sorry for anyone foolish enough to trust me to help them.”
“Oh come on! It’s been three years. You should be over it by now.”
“Why? I’m sure Maggie’s family isn’t over it. I’m sure they look at their child’s empty room every day and say to
themselves, ‘We never should have trusted that sham of a healer.’”
Auntie clucked her disappointment. “I’m sure that is not what they say.”
“How do you know? Did you ask them?”
“I know.”
“How?” Alexa’s annoyance disintegrated into a coughing fit and she reached for a glass of water.
Auntie waited a moment before responding. “The same way I always know how to find your house.”
“I wish I knew how you did that!” Alexa removed a small pillow from behind her back and threw it at the floor.
“Maybe you should be the shaman. Since you know so much.”
“I would if I were so called. But I’m not.”
“How do you know? Maybe you aren’t listening. Maybe you should give it a try.”
Auntie reached a hand to her niece’s knee. “Lexa, dear. Haven’t you suffered enough?”
“Yes. That’s why I refuse to suffer anymore.”
“Yet, you are suffering. Look at yourself.” Aunt Mildred grabbed the blanket from Alexa’s side and shook it out to
reveal a flurry of crumpled tissues. “You’re always sick. Your skin is red and blotchy. There are dark circles under
your eyes. You walk around here like a frail, ninety-year-old woman with back problems.”
“So?”
“So, stop pretending everything is fine.”
“Alright!” Alexa snatched the blanket back and wrapped it around herself. “Everything is not fine. Are you happy
now?”
“It’s a start.”
***
Sharri waited at her nephew’s bedside along with her brother. Paal dozed in a nearby chair while Sharri paced back
and forth in front of the window. The previous day’s chill had refused to leave her. Even the afternoon sun hadn’t
chased it away. Finally, she had taken to wearing her grandmother’s quilt around her shoulders in order to keep the
cold at bay.
Almost a day had passed since they returned with the shaman’s remedy. The moon would be rising any time now
and still little Bandi showed no change.
Sharri shivered. What if I did something wrong? What if Paal’s lack of faith marred the spell?
Sharri sank into a nearby chair and pulled the quilt tighter. I can’t go back and ask her for help again. She’d
never see me. What am I going to do?
The sound of stirring blankets caught Sharri’s attention. She looked up to see Bandi rolling over onto his side.
“Papa?” his tiny voice called out.
Paal woke and rushed to the bed. “Bandi? Are you okay?”
Sharri followed him. “We’re here, Bandi. How do you feel?”
“I had scary dreams.”
Paal hugged the child. “It’s okay now. Don’t worry. They were just dreams. Everything is fine now.”
“Uh, Papa?”
“Yes?”
“It really stinks in here.”
Paal laughed.
Sharri let go of the quilt, allowing it to fall on the floor by the bed. She took the bowl of pungent cinders from the
nightstand. “I’ll open a window and take the burnt herbs out into the garden. That should help.”
Paal looked at his sister. “Thank you. If it weren’t for you and the Se...”
“Don’t say it!”
“But...”
Sharri turned to her brother. “You mustn’t tell anyone. If people knew, they would seek her out, and she would hate
that.”
“Who should I credit then?”
“No one, if you can. Me, if you must. Just not her. Understand?”
“Alright.”
Paal plucked the beloved toy from the table and placed it in Bandi’s still-feverish hand. As the boy grasped it, the
tension in his face relaxed a little.
Sharri turned to take the burnt herbs into the garden but stumbled on something unseen and dropped the bowl. The
crash of breaking glass drew Paal and Bandi’s attention.
“Are you okay?” Paal asked.
“Yes,” Sharri stammered. “I just—I dropped the bowl.” She knelt and began picking up the shards of glass.
“I’ll get the broom,” Paal said as he headed into the other room.
A wave of nausea swept over Sharri and she fell forward onto her hands.
“Aunt Sharri, are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine. The smell is just making me a little queasy.” Sharri sat back on her heels.
Paal returned with a small broom and pan, and began sweeping up the mess of cinders and glass. “Maybe you
should rest,” he told Sharri.
“I’ll be alright in a minute. I’m just tired.”
Paal pointed at the stream of red winding its way down her forearm. “No, look, you’re bleeding.” He reached out
and grasped her hand. “You’ve cut yourself.”
“I’ll go clean and bandage it. You finish cleaning this up.”
Paal watched his sister go into the other room. It seemed that a cold wind blew through the room and followed her
out.
***
“You know,” Aunt Mildred said as she sat in a chair, knitting. “That boy you helped in the village. He is completely
recovered now.”
Alexa looked up from her book. “Are you still here?”
“Don’t be rude, dear. I’m just saying you saved him.”
“So? Score one for me. But only one. It does not make me a success.”
“Yet Maggie was only one, and you think that makes you a failure.”
“Can’t you go back to your own house now?”
“Not until you agree to let go of past failures and try again.”
Alexa slammed her book shut. “Then I suppose I should make up the guest room for you.”
***
Paal listened carefully to the doctor.
“No matter what I do, the sickness continues to spread through her body.”
Paal looked down at his sister, covered in sweat and sleeping fitfully in her bed. “It was only a small cut on her
hand.”
“I know. But these things happen sometimes. We don’t know why. It’s as if some evil spirit gets in through the
wound and poisons the body.”
“An evil spirit?”
“Yes. Unfortunately that is your sister’s specialty, not mine.” He placed a hand on Paal’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ve
tried everything medical that I can think of. Whatever is killing Sharri, it’s not physical.”
“What should I do?”
“If it was anyone else I’d say ‘send for the shaman.’ But since our patient is the shaman... We could send someone
over to Taltrine. It’s the closest town of any size. They probably have a shaman.”
“It’s almost two days ride. Will she survive that long?”
The doctor shook his head slowly. “Probably not. But I don’t know what else to suggest.”
Paal bit his lip. “I do.”
***
A knock sounded at Alexa’s door. She groaned loudly in response.
“Let him in, dear,” Aunt Mildred cooed without looking up from her book.
“You stay out of it!” Alexa moved to the door. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Why are you seeing him?”
“Curiosity, that’s all.”
She opened the door to find Paal standing on her front porch. “What do you want?”
Paal shuffled his feet. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course. Is your son not recovered?”
“He’s fine.”
“Then why are you bothering me?”
“Sharri is dying. An evil spirit, the doctor says. He can’t do anything. She needs a shaman but the closest village is
too far away.”
“You should help the boy,” Auntie suggested from her armchair.
Alexa turned to glare at the old woman. “Shush!” When she returned her gaze to Paal, she noticed he was peering
into the room with a strange look on his face. “What?” she demanded.
“Oh, nothing,” he stammered. “I...uh. Can you come? Only you can help her now.”
“I suppose I can have a look. But I can’t promise you anything.”
“I understand. I appreciate anything you can do. Or can’t do. Just try, that’s all I ask.”
Alexa shook a finger at him. “If this goes wrong, I don’t want to hear a word about it. I never said I could help her.
I have said over and over again that I am not a shaman.”
“I know.” He peered into the room again, as if searching for something, then looked back at Alexa. “If you could
just come and see if you can do anything, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Fine. Let me get my coat and some supplies.”
***
Paal and Alexa arrived to find Sharri thrashing in her bed. Alexa set her bag down and leaned over to place a hand
on Sharri’s forehead. Sharri jerked away.
Alexa inspected Sharri’s distressed, sleeping form. Her skin was slick with sweat, and her face was alternately
flushed and pale. The young shaman’s fists were clenched and her feet jerked back and forth on the bare bed.
“How long has she been like this?”
Paal stepped forward. “Four days.”
“How did it start?”
“She cut her hand. We cleaned and bandaged it. But the next morning it was black around the edges. She fainted
that afternoon. By evening, she was bed-ridden. Then the nightmares started.”
“Nightmares?”
“That’s what I think they are. She thrashes about in her sleep. Sometimes she cries out. Sometimes she whispers.
She seems to be having bad dreams.”
“Yes, I agree.” Alexa knelt down to rummage in her bag. She pulled out a small vial of red powder. “Brew this into
some tea for her. Green tea, if you have it.”
“We do.” Paal took the vial and headed to the kitchen.
Alexa took out a pouch of leaves and a mortar and pestle. She sat on the floor and crushed the leaves into a fine
powder.
“What is that?” Paal asked when he returned with the tea.
“Something to soothe her spirit. Set the tea on the nightstand for now. Let it cool a little, then sit her up and try to
get some of it down her throat.”
Alexa pulled a jar of liquid from her bag. Using the dropper in its top she added a tiny bit of the liquid to the crushed
leaves. A pleasant smell, like that of lilacs and honeysuckle on a fresh spring morning, wafted up from the mortar.
“That smells a whole lot better than the stuff we used for Bandi.”
“It has a different purpose. Your sister is not lost. She is tormented.”
“Then it is an evil spirit.”
“Something like that.”
Paal stared at the Secret Shaman.
Alexa tried to explain. “Something has gotten inside her that doesn’t belong there. We just have to calm her so she
can fight it, then draw the intruder out.”
“The fragrance and the tea will do that?”
“Hopefully. But as I told you before, I can’t give you any guarantees. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.”
***
Paal followed the shaman’s instructions to the letter. He sat by his sister’s bedside and waited for some change. By
the time the moon had risen enough to peek through the window, Sharri’s sleep seemed less troubled. She ceased
thrashing, and her breathing became steady and even.
“How is she?” Alexa asked as she came into the room.
“Better I think.”
Alexa stood over Sharri for a moment. “I agree.” Then she turned to Paal. “You should try to sleep a little. I’ll sit
with her.”
Paal rose slowly from the chair. “Maybe just for a little while.”
Alexa watched him go, then pulled the chair to Sharri’s bedside and sat down. “Young shaman, you had better
recover. This town needs you. And I’m not in the mood to fill in for more than a day.”
Sharri’s face twitched slightly in response.
A smile crept onto Alexa’s face. “I suppose I could give you until daybreak to pull yourself together.”
***
The morning sun spilled through the window and onto Sharri’s sleeping face. Alexa was startled when Sharri raised
her arm and shaded her eyes for the glare.
“Shaman, are you awake?”
At the sound, Sharri opened her eyes and blinked at her visitor. “Secret Shaman? What are you doing here?”
“I’ve asked you not to call me that.” She placed a hand on Sharri’s forehead and found it cool and dry. “I suppose
you could call me Alexa, if you want.”
Paal burst into the room. “You’re awake!” He hugged his sister’s shoulders. “How do you feel?”
“Rested. But very hungry.”
“I’ll make you something. I’ll make your favorite—berry pancakes with whipped cream.”
“That sounds nice.”
Paal turned and hugged Alexa. “Thank you. Thank you! I can’t thank you enough.”
Alexa retreated from his exuberance. “I’ll settle for some of those pancakes you mentioned.”
“Of course. I’ll do it right away.” Paal rushed to the kitchen.
Alexa turned back to Sharri. “But after breakfast, I have to be going.”
“I understand. Thank you for all your help.”
***
Alexa left Sharri’s house and walked through the village toward the north woods and home. When she was almost
at the tree line, she heard a familiar voice calling her name. She turned to see a neighbor of her aunt’s running
toward her.
“Kyle Farmer?”
“Yes, yes,” he panted as he came to a stop beside her. “You do remember me.”
“Of course. You’ve lived next door to my aunt since I was a child.”
“Yes, well, I have some bad news.” He fell silent.
She nodded encouragement. “I am prepared to hear it.”
“Your Aunt Mildred died last week. I have been trying to find you, to tell you, but no one seems to know exactly
where your house is.”
“Last week? That’s impossible.” Alexa pictured her aunt lounging in her living room, badgering her for the last few
days about giving up after one failure. “You must be mistaken.”
“No, no. I found her. When she didn’t come out onto the porch that morning, I got suspicious. When she didn’t
answer the door, I used the spare key she’d given me. And there she was. She looked asleep. So peaceful. But she
wasn’t breathing. She was gone.”
Alexa whipped around, first turning back toward town, then back toward the woods. “I...Thank you for telling me.
I have to get home.”
“The funeral was two days ago. I’m sorry I didn’t find you before then.”
“It’s okay. Thank you for your help. I have to go.”
Alexa hurried home. Bursting through the door, she half-expected her Aunt Mildred to still be sitting in the armchair
where she had left her. Instead only an open book remained in her place.
She picked it up. The page was opened to a new chapter about halfway through the book. At the top of the page
was a quote that read: “Failure is fleeting. To be successful, one must only keep trying.”
Tears formed in Alexa’s eyes. She claimed a sprig of kefa flower from the table and placed it in the book to mark
the page.
“Alright, Auntie,” she whispered. “You win.”
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